


Need-to-Know's

by buttday



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 02:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14534598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttday/pseuds/buttday
Summary: It's over freshly baked homemade cherry cake and specialty wine from No.3 that Karan realizes there's something crucial she doesn't know about her son's partner:"Nezumi...When's your birthday?"-two-shot, post-reunion, headcanon dump, and then some~





	Need-to-Know's

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is going to be a two-shot. it's set post-reunion and filled with some pre-reunion headcanons. not sure if i'll want to change the title at some point, but i hope you enjoy reading~ please let me know what you think! :D

            It's over freshly baked homemade cherry cake and specialty wine from No.3 that Karan realizes there's something crucial she doesn't know about her son's partner:

            "Nezumi... _When's your birthday?"_

            Shion goes rigid in his seat upon hearing the words out of his mother's mouth; more than that it's a thing Shion wouldn't _dare_ ask out of an irrational fear of the same reaction it drew from Nezumi about five or some years ago— **_'What you want is information: my date of birth, the place I was raised, my height, weight, IQ— bits of information you can attach value to, convert into numbers and symbols. Relying on hard data, that's the only way you ever try to learn about others—'_** Shion was just... caught off guard. Because since that reaction, and since the feel of a steady hand around his wrist, an even steadier warmth permeating through cheap cotton and leather, and the steadiest heartbeat he would ever come to know under his palm, it's never really crossed Shion's mind to ask again. _Ever._ Still, he can't help the unease that rises in his chest, and he finds that he's nervous when he looks to Nezumi.

            Nezumi is slowly, silently chewing on his first forkful of cherry cake for the night, maybe to delay having to answer, maybe to savor the tartness. Either way, he's placid, quite elegantly so, and he doesn't look like he's at all offended or even the slightest bit bothered by the question. He glances at Shion after feeling his gaze on him and lifts his free hand to his chest, _gracefully,_ to wordlessly tell Shion that he knows which memory the question stirred in his head, to tease? Nezumi swallows afterwards, well-mannered enough not to talk with his mouth full, raises his eyebrows now, and clears his throat: _"Me?"_

            "Why, yes," Karan affirms, certain that though he and Shion were seated very close to each other on the opposite side of the dinner table, she had adressed _Nezumi_ properly and specifically. Besides, why would she ask her own son such a thing?

            "The day I was born?" Nezumi continues.

            "...Yes..." Karan says again, only slightly confused that Nezumi was clarifying such a simple question.

            Of course, she doesn't know that what she's asking _isn't_ a simple question, not for Nezumi. But she _does_ know... well, save for this... kind, of information, she definitely feels like she knows Nezumi as if he were her child, too.

            See, since Nezumi left to travel after the Correctional Facility fell, Shion had told Karan all about him.

            Day in, day out, with a cup of plain, hot water in one hand and a warm cravat on a plate in front of him, Shion would sigh.

            Karan would stand by and watch Shion _sigh,_ just like he did everyday the entire four years that came after he turned twelve. He would space out with a deep, distant look in his violet eyes, as his idle fingers stole at his dry lips when they unconsciously formed around Nezumi's name.

            She would take a long look at her son— white-haired, snake-scarred, much taller, better-built— _he's grown so much_ she would think, but when he was like this, heart miles away heaving breaths laced with a yearning so strong it looked painful, she could swear it was still her small, brown-haired twelve-or-sixteen-year-old boy that was sitting in front of her.

 _"Are you in love?"_ she used to ask, and started asking again.

            Instead of blushing furiously and jumping to start defending himself from the absurdity of all of it again like he used to, Shion would only smile, serene and sincere and with all the surety in the world say _"Yes."_

            Karan would bring her own plate, her own cravat, set it down and sit across Shion.

            The first few times, it was a quick, quiet breakfast after the quick, quiet exchange. He would stop at a nod, that "yes," and then she would stop asking, at least for the day.

            And it was nostalgic. While it was without a doubt that they had zero attachment to their old life here in Chronos, breakfast in a _perfectly_ -humidified dining room with Shion was warm and familiar to Karan, reminded her of several precious memories she has of raising Shion by herself tucked in every other corner of this high-tech house.

            Shion having been the youngest member of the Restructurual Committee, he instantly gained his right back at their past residence as his office. Despite his personal protests, the politics of No.6 has turned to grasping at straws of democracy, and anyone and everyone who was there that night could _never_ forget about the boy who'd dashed across the commotion and stripped his godforsaken dress shirt to calm everyone down with the promise of an equal chance at survival.

            And they wanted to be assured that he would be part of it, that boy they found out later was named Shion; they had all hastily chosen him to be the face of hope, for a better No.6—? And so it happened that the Chronos unit was converted into Shion's office space, where he would be at the forefront of receiving and addressing each and every concern of each and every citizen. Shion would end up working all day to forward rehabilitation requests, draft major budget proposals, and sort through project priorities, forgetting to go home for many nights at a time. If he had any energy left at the end of the day, it was enough only to throw the windows in his room open, and drag himself up his loft bed to get a few hours of rest before getting almost straight back to work.

            And Karan knew this, she knew Shion; she knew that he acknowledged that this monumental responsibility was meant only for him, that he bore the weight of the wishes of so many, especially of those they lost in the fire No.6 razed desperately the moment it began to crumble. She knew that Shion decided to live by the words Nezumi had left him with— _he won't run away from this,_ even if it meant that he would have no time to breathe for himself as things went full-throttle the second the Restructural Committee was formed.

            Karan had noticed, in the few nights Shion was able to retire into their humble home at Lost Town, that he was losing color, in his skin, his lips, even his eyes, and wish as she might have to tell Shion to do something else— maybe just help out in the bakery, maybe start building that city library he mentioned in passing, maybe read to children and eventually become a teacher, _anything_ that would take less a toll on him— Shion wouldn't listen. He had already clung onto Nezumi's words and his words alone, he had already resolved to fulfilling every promise he's ever had to make. **_He won't run away from this._**

            So Karan at the least of the least made sure that Shion was eating.

            Yes, day in, day out. Karan would get up before sunrise to get her baking done earlier, so that by the time Lili came in to help out at the bakery during the busy mornings, that sweet girl, she could bring a special batch of bread to Shion's office, no gates or need for special ID's to keep her from getting into Chronos anymore.

            If she wanted to, Karan was sure she could even bring some extras to sell on the way. It wasn't long till her bakery was back in business; there was always a demand for it. Her baked goods reminded citizens from within the wall of simpler times, and welcomed citizens from outside the wall with its— according to Rikiga, _"all-embracing and universal tastiness and value—" "—old man, I agree Mama Karan's muffins are worthy of the high praise and all but what's with that awkward theatrical talk, huh?!"_ Even Inukashi could afford it for their little Shionn because money and currency didn't seem to mean as much in a broken-down city state after all. And all in all, Karan's baking was loved and lauded by many, and since Shion was busy there wasn't much else to do, realistically.

            For Karan, knowing Shion was alive and well had always been enough, and she kept his dutifulness in mind as she kneaded the early hours away.

            Though, she soon discovered that the only thing Shion appeared to ever have the drive to do for himself if he weren't working was heat water in a kettle, even if the kitchen was equipped with a fully functional dispenser and coffee maker complete with exact-temperature adjusters. Shion liked using the kettle to make hot water regardless, and he liked making too much.

            With Karan coming around, Shion had less to throw out from the kettle, and more than warm water for breakfast. And even if conversations and breakfasts were again, quick and quiet, Karan found solace in both the nostalgia and that her son was not forgetting to eat, even if she had to go out of her way to remind him everyday.

            Soon breakfasts started lasting for longer— when Karan asked if those sighs and those eyes meant that Shion was in love, Shion's simple "Yes" started turning into _"Helplessly so,"_ and _"How could I not be?"_ and _"With him, of course— Mom, he's incredible."_ Following that, the cravats would go cold, untouched till the end of breakfast.

            It was worth it for the colors that came right back to Shion— his eyes shone an ecstatic purple, his skin flushed an excitable pink, but his lips stayed dry because he would just talk so, so much.

            When Shion spoke about Nezumi it was with such simple, straightforward words.

            He was casual— _"some nights, I have to hold him when we sleep or else he'll kick me out of bed or fall off on his own in the middle of the night," "he gets super pissy when I mess up the seasoning for the soup but he'll thank me and eat up anyway,"_ and _"even if he jokes about charging his talent fee when I ask him to recite some lines, he would get in character without missing a beat."_

            He was blunt _— "he's actually very sharp-tongued, but only because he speaks the truth without feeling like he has to sugarcoat anything," "he never, ever hesitated to tell me when I did anything that pissed him off and he especially hated when I asked stupid questions,"_ and _"he has a tendency to get physical if he wants his point across fast and clear— in fact he's had me at knifepoint one too many times."_

            He was frustrated— _"he said he can read me like a book because of how long we've been together, but to be honest I can never tell what he's thinking," "he's kind of inconsistent with which side of him he shows to people so I kind of get why Rikiga-san and Inukashi find it hard to trust him,"_ and _"also, I don't know why for some reason he was so fixated on being taller than me? I'm probably already taller than him now..."_

            But most of all, he was honest _: "More than once when we lived together in that room in West Block—I really, truly love that place—he asked me if I ever regretted having saved him that stormy night; I don't. I don't regret it one bit. Even now,"_ _after another four years without Nezumi..._ Shion would take a deep breath, **_"I still feel the same."_**

            It's a clang that brings Karan back to her senses and she nearly jolts— Nezumi's put his fork down on the edge of his plate.

            Karan wonders how long she's been lost in her thoughts; she idly thinks it couldn't have been that long. She even muses, it may very well be the same phenomenon that let Shion turn less than half a year with Nezumi into four years worth of stories, as if compiling his best works for an anthology like a poet. But Karan is no poet, and Nezumi's finished his third slice of cherry cake, whistling appreciatively about dinner  _and_ dessert, looking at Karan with thankful eyes.

 _This is Nezumi_ , excessive-salt intolerant, direct to a fault, and knows Shion better than she does... Karan does love him like her own.

            She just... happens to _not_ know as much as she thinks she should, and this reminds her she'd asked him a question. She realizes that however long she's been lost in thought is the same amount of time she's been waiting for Nezumi's answer, and just as she's about to press for it again, Nezumi gets up.

            The sudden skid of his chair startles Shion who was long done with his own helping of cake. But what surprises him more is the expression on Nezumi's face, collected and choreographed, like he's about to say something clever.

            "My birthday, huh? _Hm..."_ Nezumi hums as he pushes the chair back under the table. Taking the used utensils and soiled plates, he eyes decorative ribbon undone at the bottom of the bottle of wine, the half-eaten cherry cake in the center of the table with a topper made of fondant cut intricately into the complicated characters of Shion's name, and the two candles set on the end of the platter with their stumps dyed cherry-red and wicks unevenly used, pastel purple outlines spelling the number 21. He smiles at Shion before turning around and making for the kitchen to wash the dishes. _"September seventh,_ I guess."

**Author's Note:**

> next chapter: A confrontation! What will Shion think of Nezumi's words?


End file.
